Disconfirmation

By: Rebecca Irvine

Here is another writing tip taken from my Comm class lectures. Disconfirmation is a form of behavior where one refuses to acknowledge another person. Taken from the word 'disconfirm,' which means to prove to be invalid, this type of behavior cruely suggests that another person is so unimportant that he or she does not deserve to be recognized in any fashion.

Disconfirmation-like behavior is frequently utilized in classic literature (such as Pride and Prejudiced), in plays (such as The Glass Menagerie), and especially films (such as 12 Angry Men).

So, when might disconfirmation be used in writing? There are a number of instances it might come in handy. There is the obvious use of disconfirmation when a character is angry at another--this is especially typical of immature characters and can be employed in both a serious and humorous manner. But more importantly, disconfirmation behavior can be be used to mislead your readers. For example, Mr. Darcy exhibited these rude behaviors during the Meryton ball, leading everyone to believe he thought himself better than them. In reality, his behavior was due to shyness in the presence of strangers.

Hopefully, disconfirmation can be another tool to broaden the behavior of your favorite characters and make them more diverse and life-like.

Good Cheer at Christmas?

by Joan Sowards

Just as an author needs to know her/his audience while writing a novel, companies need to know and care about their customers.

Customer service has been discussed frequently in our home lately. Seemingly good companies have lost their good cheer toward customers, forgetting that the customer is who pays their paycheck.

Companies usually stretch far to please the customer. But as of late, my hubby was overcharged $20 for a prescription that the pharmacy refused to reimburse him for; a daughter was rudely treated in a well known toy store when she was told they didn’t price-match, and then when she decided not to buy the toy at their price, they took away the free gift she was given when she entered the store.

But this next example, though it starts out bad, has a happy ending. My daughter bought a warranty on her car that included oil changes. When she went to a service center, they told her they didn’t cover the oil change, and to call the dealer and ask where to take it. The employee she got on the phone was rude to her from the start, and when she asked why she hadn’t been informed that only certain centers did the oil changes, the man asked, “Was I the one who sold you the policy?” She said, “No.” He replied, “Then how am I to know?” and hung up.

Luckily the company actually had a great customer service policy, and this guy was one only one bad apple. My daughter called and left a voicemail complaint and a very sweet lady called her back. This individual gave her the addresses she needed and apologized for the first rep’s bad manners, and even offered to refund her oil change policy if she wished.

Somehow this ties in with writing. By stretching the point a bit, it reminds me that we need to know our customer, our reader, our publisher even, so that everyone is happy and we will be successful in our writing marketing.

Timeless Memories

by Kari Diane Pike

When the youngest of our nine children turned five, friends and family asked over and over again, "What are you going to do with all your spare time now that all your kids are grown or starting school?"

My what? At first, I assumed it was a rhetorical question, made in jest to tease me about the size of our family. Eventually, I came to the realization that many people held the opinion that I used my children as an excuse to stay home and sit by the pool. I remember slamming the phone into the receiver after this epiphany and exclaiming, "The next person to ask me what I am going to do with all my spare time is going to get their head pinched off."

Well, I heard that question many more times and, while I didn't really pinch anyone's head off, I was tempted to smack a few. Instead, I eventually found myself asking "What did I do with all my time back when I had just one or two babies? For that matter, what did I do with all my time when I had no one to care for except myself?" I started to beat myself up pretty bad with an avalanche of should've, would've, could'ves and a few boulder-size what if's. Not only that, but instead of brushing away the debris from all this negative thinking, I picked it up and put it in my back pack. The past few months, that burden continued to increase as our youngest child became a teenager and I sat watching a Primary program that, for the first time in twenty-eight years, had no Pike children participating in it.

Saturday, a little miracle came into my life that helped me shake out the debris and use it to pave a path of clarity. Grandchild number fourteen entered the world and I headed straight to Phoenix to meet little Gwendolyn and help care for her brothers and sister. This morning, as I sat cross-legged on the floor with baby Gwen in my arms, three-year-old Gideon exuberantly shared with me the fine art of Legos. We traveled to Infinity and Beyond, following The Map to Grandma's House. Of course we had a tool box to fix everything, which came in really handy when the bridge was out and the train almost crashed right off into the water. Sudden memories of playing just like this with Gideon's father flashed through my mind. Everything came rushing back: running through the house with super hero capes and leaping off the arm of the couch, playing with tools "just like Dad's" and figuring out those tools could open forbidden cupboard doors, and that time when he was four and got a hickey on his chest from trying help mom by "nursing" his new baby brother. I listened to Gideon's prattering and nuzzled Gwen's velvety head. I drank in her newborn smell and I remembered. This is what I did with my time. It is what I will continue to do. Whether in caring for children or grandchildren, aging parents, a child in a Primary class, or a neighbor in need, I will always, first and foremost, be a mother.

Each stage of mothering requires a different approach to how time is spent. A friend once pointed out to me that mothering is a lot like making bread. We do a lot of mixing and kneading and shaping, but then eventually, we have to set the dough out and let it rise on its own. If we keep trying to force it, the bread will never reach its full potential. While the dough is rising, we keep on eye on it, but our time is spent with other duties and preparations. So many aspects of our lives fit this analogy. So, instead of beating myself up, I think I will post this blog entry and go to bed and dream of all the things I am going to write in my spare time.

Endings and Beginnings

By Lynn Parsons

Last summer, my baby went to college. After 28 years of raising children, I have to admit it was scary, but I adjusted pretty quickly. I really enjoy the visits from the children and grandchildren. But I also appreciate the quiet. I even started taking some classes.

Younger son is getting married in December. He's also graduating from BYU. He's looking for a job in civil engineering, but this is a terrible time to look for work. So, they may be moving in with us. The nest wasn't empty for long.

We are in a state of flux. Planning for Christmas in another state so we can attend the wedding, making plans for a reception here, and rearranging the house to make room for the newlyweds. My schooling continues, and another project is about to pop up. Wasn't this supposed to be the time of life when I was going to be bored?

After visiting with a friend whose child has multiple medical problems, I am reminded that my life is richly blessed. While complications arise, we are generally given what we need to make life smooth again.

I pray that at this holiday time, you can focus on your joys, enjoy family and friends, and discover what is truely important.